Marie Ferrarella - Mistletoe and Miracles

Desire.

The same desire that was now throbbing insistently in his veins. For one small moment in time, he wasn’t Trent Marlowe, child psychologist. He was just Trent Marlowe, a college student who was hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with a young woman he had known since the fourth grade.

And had wanted since the beginning of time.

Tilting his head, he softly brushed his lips against hers, half expecting Laurel to pull back.

But she didn’t. She remained exactly where she was.

And kissed him back.

Marie Ferrarellahas written over one hundred and fifty novels, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website at www.marieferrarella.com.

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To

Hermine Katarina Hirsch,

who, according to her loving daughter, Terry,

is the best mother in the world.

For a moment, Trent Marlowe thought he was dreaming.

When he first looked up from the latest article on selective mutism and saw her standing in the doorway of his office, he was certain he had fallen asleep.

But even though the article was dry, the last time he’d actually nodded out while sitting at a desk had been during an eight-o’clock Pol-Sci 1 class, where the lackluster professor’s monotone voice had been a first-class cure for insomnia.

He’d been a college freshman then.

And so had she.

Blinking, Trent glanced down at his appointment calendar and then up again at the sad-eyed, slender blonde. It was nine in the morning and he had a full day ahead of him, beginning with a new patient, a Cody Greer. Cody was only six years old and was brought in by his mother, Laurel Greer.

When he’d seen it on his schedule, the first name had given him a fleeting moment’s pause. It made him remember another Laurel. Someone who had been a very important part of his life. But that was years ago and if he thought of her every now and then, it was never in this setting. Never walking into his office. After all, like his stepmother, he had become a child psychologist, and Laurel Valentine was hardly a child. Even when she’d been one.

Laurel wasn’t that unusual a name. It had never occurred to him that Laurel Greer and Laurel Valentine were one and the same person.

And yet, here she was, in his doorway. Just as achingly beautiful as ever.

Maybe more so.

Trent didn’t remember rising from behind his desk. Didn’t remember opening his mouth to speak. His voice sounded almost surreal to his ear as he said her name. “Laurel?”

And then she smiled.

It was a tense, hesitant smile, but still Laurel’s smile, splashing sunshine through the entire room. That was when he knew he wasn’t dreaming, wasn’t revisiting a space in his mind reserved for things that should have been but weren’t.

Laurel remained where she was, as if she had doubts about taking this last step into his world. “Hello, Trent. How are you?”

Her voice was soft, melodic. His was stilted. “Startled.”

He’d said the first word that came to him. But this wasn’t a word association test. Trent laughed dryly to shake off the bewildered mood that closed around him.

How long had it been? Over seven years now. And, at first glance, she hadn’t changed. She still had a shyness that made him think of a fairy-tale princess in need of rescue.

Confusion wove its way through the moment. Had she come here looking for him? Or was it his professional services she needed? But he didn’t treat adults.

“I’m a child psychologist,” he heard himself telling her.

Her smile widened, so did the radiance. But that could have just been a trick of the sunshine streaming in the window behind him.

“I know,” she said. “I have a child.”

Something twisted inside of him, but he forced himself to ignore it. Trent tilted his head slightly as he looked behind her, but there didn’t seem to be anyone with Laurel, at least not close by. Trent raised an inquiring eyebrow as his eyes shifted back to her.

“He’s at home,” she explained. “With my mother.”

He looked at his watch even though three minutes ago he’d known what time it was. Right now he wasn’t sure of anything. The ground had opened up beneath him and he’d fallen down the rabbit hole.

“Shouldn’t he be in school?”

Laurel sighed before answering, as if some burden had made her incredibly tired. “These days, he doesn’t want to go anymore.” Laurel pressed her lips together and looked at him hopefully. “Can I come in?”

Idiot, Trent berated himself. But the sight of his first, no, his only love after all these years had completely thrown him for a loop, incinerating his usual poise.

He forced himself to focus. To relax. With effort, he locked away the myriad questions popping up in his brain.

“Of course. Sorry. Seeing you just now really caught me off guard.” He gestured toward the two chairs before his sleek, modern desk. “Please, take a seat.”

She moved across the room like the model she had once confided she wanted to become, gliding gracefully into one of the chairs he’d indicated. Placing her purse on the floor beside her, she crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap.

She seemed uncomfortable and she’d never been ill at ease around him before. But there were seven years between then and now. A lot could have happened in that time.

“I wanted to talk to you about Cody before you started working with him, but I didn’t want him to hear me.”

Did she think the boy wouldn’t understand? Or that Cody would understand all too well? “Why?”

“Cody’s practically a statue as it is. I don’t want him feeling that I’m talking about him as if he wasn’t there. I mean…” She stopped abruptly, working her lower lip the way she used to when a topic was too hard for her to put into words. Some things didn’t change. He wasn’t sure if he found comfort in that or not.

When she looked up at him, he realized that she’d bitten down on her lower lip to keep from crying. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Anyplace that feels comfortable,” he told her gently, a well of old feelings springing forth. He smiled at her encouragingly. “Most people start at the beginning.”

No place feels comfortable, Laurel thought. She was hanging on by a thread and that thread was getting thinner and thinner. Any second now, she was going to fall into the abyss.

Clenching her hands together, she forced herself to rally. She couldn’t fall apart, she couldn’t. She had to save Cody. Or, more accurately, she had to get Trent to save Cody, because if anyone could help her son, it was Trent.

“He doesn’t talk. Not a word since…” Despite her resolve, her voice cracked and then suddenly deserted her. A wave of déjà vu washed over her.